Conviction
by 10miles
Summary: A mystery medical case, clinic duty and a conviction. From when Wilson had moved in with House. Things don't go as you expect them to go. I love reviews !
1. Morning rituals

Note 1 : I did do quite some research on the final diagnosis (won't spoil it ) but that obviously doesn't mean all my medical info/terminology is right. I'm especially unsure about the blood sugar .  
(European norm values and US norm values differ due to different meters /units being used ).

Note 2 : Editted the chapter for layout so it's easier to read, and there were two spelling mistakes.  
The rest is exactly the same as it was - august 2006.  
Thanks for reviewing !

**"Conviction"**

"House, are you ready?"

Wilson stood by the door demonstratively glancing at his watch, impatiently waiting for House to get his coat.  
He hated having to tell House to hurry up but they were really running late this morning.

House grumbled something from across the room as he grabbed the brown paper bag labeled "take mine again and die" off the counter and made his way to the closet to grab his coat.

House limped down the steps as Wilson locked the door and quickly caught up.

"We'll take your car today", House said.

"You OK? ", asked Wilson as they drove off.

"Yes," House replied, and then added: "I tripped last night, we should stop the pranks".

Wilson realized the morning ritual had taken House longer than usual, and where inside he normally would go about with both hands free, he had had his cane by his side ever since he had chased Wilson out of the bathroom so he could shower.  
Him moving the furniture around so House wouldn't have a clear path to the bathroom in the dark had been the payback for House painting his toenails cherry red, and filling his shoes with yoghurt thus ruining perfect Italian leather.  
But where the fall from the sewn through cane had resulted in House being humored and respecting him more,  
this fall apparently had had a different outcome.

"I didn't mean…what happened?"  
Guilt flashed across Wilson's face.

Morning rush's traffic was chaotic and busy and Wilson needed to concentrate on the road – for a while they drove in silence.  
When they stopped for a red sign House cleared his throat.

"I landed on the wrong leg".

Wilson was about to worriedly ask something but House quickly said :  
"I'm fine, just didn't sleep very well and don't feel like driving. That's all – green light, step on it"

No matter how much he'd want to rub in the guilt, he thought it best to leave out the 5 minutes he had spent sprawled on the floor in agony, because then Wilson would want to do all sorts of tests just to make sure he was OK.  
House knew this was just the normal result of a normal fall, stiff muscles, a bit more pain; he'd be back to normal in a few days.

Wilson took a right turn and briefly looked at House.

He thought of how different their lives once had been.

House had been different, no matter how much he denied it, the infarction had changed him.  
Of course it had.

If the given of a functioning body, a body you could rely on, one that you didn't have to take into account with  
everything you planned, one your mind didn't constantly have to battle – if that given,  
that certainty suddenly was taken out of the equation what else could you do but adapt and change?

Not because you wanted to, but because you were forced to.

House had always used sports and music to wind down from a busy day at work.

He had always been very athletic and Wilson knew he'd been playing all sorts of sports when he was growing up.  
It was probably the only time House felt comfortable in the midst of a group of fellow human beings.  
He even tried to get Wilson to go running with him one time, not jogging, running.

Now only the music was left, and no matter how much aggression you put into jamming the keys Wilson knew House missed it.  
Being able to just walk, run, make your body move fast on its own accord.

He'd seen the look on House's face as they watched a game on TV, or on the rare occasion House stood on the sidelines of a field watching other people play.

Wilson knew that even though he was his best - his only - friend,  
House still did not want him to be around when he was in more pain than he could deal with.


	2. Surfing the waves

Note 2 : Editted the chapter for layout so it's easier to read.The rest is exactly the same as it was.  
Thanks for reviewing ! 

**Chapter 2. Surfing the waves.**

Wilson parked the car and they entered the hospital where Chase was leaning  
against a desk with a file in his hand chatting up a pretty nurse.

House stopped next to Chase.  
Wilson gave House a questioning look, House nodded slightly annoyed – yes he was OK.

Wilson walked away and House leaned towards the nurse and said :  
"He's gay .

"He warned me about you".

Chase laughed triumphantly.  
House glared at the pair of them then motioned to the elevator and Chase.

"Work's calling"

"Actually," said Chase, "I was waiting here on you... I think I've got a case.

House took the file from Chase and started reading.

"It's this surfer buddy of mine and he"

"You surf !" House snarled.

The nurse looked at Chase in obvious admiration.  
House made a face, he had unintentionally helped Chase score points.  
Chase noticed and started with :

"Yeah, there's this place at Belmar and…"

A look of House shut him up.

"His name is Chris, he got admitted yesterday and they're about to release him but I think we need to look at his case"

"Why?",asked House.

"Because he's my friend, he's sick and…, replied Chase.

House folded the file closed and handed it back to Chase as he turned and headed for the elevators.  
Chase quickly followed him and took a deep breath for another monologue in an attempt to convince House,  
but House soon interrupted him.

"We are taking the case"

"What?", Chase blinked. He hadn't thought it would have been so easy.  
He hesitated, confused.

"Because he's my friend ?"

"No," said House, "because I think you're right, he's sick. Go get the others, meet me upstairs".

Everyone was in the whiteboard room.Cameron was sitting down at the table, Chase leaned against a bookshelf and Foreman stood at the sink.  
He was stirring his coffee and adding 4 bags of sugar.

"Diabetic?", asked House.

"What?", said Foreman, "no I just like my coffee sweet"

"Not you, the patient."  
"Fatigue, muscle pains, vomiting ... diabetes."

Everyone was silent.

"Chase surfs," said House.

"See I knew I would get an equally silent response here"

They all looked at Chase who shrugged.

"Cameron, stop imagining him in a wetsuit, we've got a dying kid called"

House looked at Chase.

"Chris."

"Christophe Randall Rowe", House said, now reading it from the file.

"You really think he's dying?", asked Chase.

"Statistics say he's got a 100 percent chance…doesn't say when though.  
But he definitely is sick. And the file says he's a diabetic. Who agrees?"

Chase raised his hand.  
Foreman and Cameron look at House questioningly.

"Why doubt it?", asked Cameron, "it's in the file"

"He was diagnosed 2 weeks ago, "said Chase, "he's been doing better since he's on insulin I think"

"You think…? He's not diabétic", said House, "his blood sugar is all over the place but the values and the response to insulin don't fit … Test again, keep him off food for a while and see how low it gets."

"Could be diabetes and some virus ?", he doesn't seem too sick to me, said Foreman.

House scowled at him.  
"Go run some tests on him, take a proper history. Those guys down in the ER are useless when it comes to  
anything other than CPR and something involving a lot of blood…I've got clinic duty".


	3. Boring clinic duty

Editted the chapter for layout so it's easier to read. The rest is exactly the same as it was.  
Thanks for reviewing !

**Chapter 3. Boring clinic duty.**

House got into the elevator, and as the doors closed he sighed and let his tall frame rest against the cool metal of the elevator wall.  
He really hadn't slept well at all; this was going to be a long day.  
He reached into his left hand coat pocket, retrieving the bottle with a familiar rattle and swallowed 1 pill.

Cuddy was waiting in the lobby, sorting through files.  
As the elevator door opened and she caught a glimpse of House pocketing his pills and straightening his posture.

"What have we got?", House asked, he almost sounded cheerful.

Cuddy raised an eyebrow as she handed him the small stack of patient files.

"Pick one, but do them all"

House had stopped in front of her.  
She noticed he transferred his weight to his left leg and his left hand which was resting on the desk as he commented:

"Do them? I thought that was … what's the term ... unethical? "

He tried to make it look casual and would have pulled it off if he hadn't shifted slightly aside, away from her, in a sort of protective reflex as she gave him an annoyed look and rushed past him brushing across his right side.

House normally would use more pain as an excuse not to do clinic duty.  
When he was hiding it, it meant there really was something wrong and he didn't want to deal with it,  
or it was something he was embarrassed about.

She got in the elevator and pressed the up button.  
Either way she wanted to know and there was an easier way to find out than just asking House.

House flicked through the files.  
Boring.

A girl with allergies, and a guy with a twisted ankle for starters.  
What was wrong with waiting a few days to see if the body would figure things out on its own?  
Fine, let's do the ankle first.

He walked into exam 4 where he was met by a gorgeous long-legged blonde in a miniskirt.

"Eh... Mr. Jones?"  
He sat down, hung his cane on the edge of the tray and rolled forward bending toward bright red toenails and a slightly swollen ankle.

"Tricia"

"Right. Twisted ankle"

"Looks like you and me both honey."  
It was a low smoky voice, with a smile, and then a flirting finger sliding over his upper arm.

Dear God.

"Eh, yeah".  
He took hold of the foot, asked her to move it, pressed down on both medial and lateral malleoli.  
Twisted indeed, not broken, and very likely no damage to the ligaments either.

"You have the most amazing blue eyes, you know"

"I'll have a nurse tape you up, keep your leg up for the next day or two. And buy some decent shoes, less heel, more comfort"

"Can't you do it?"

"Sorry, very busy".

House dashed out.  
OK, so maybe not that boring after all...

Cuddy entered Wilson's office just as he was un-wrapping his sandwich, folding a napkin out on his lap.

"Hey – do you know what's up with House?" 

Wilson looked up.

"What do you mean? What did he do now?" 

"How many Vicodin have you prescribed him these past weeks, more than usual?"

Wilson swallowed.  
"No, same but I think I know what you mean and I think I am the cause of that"

Cuddy eyed him questioningly.

"Oh, eh... would you want something?"  
Wilson held up his food.

"No, thanks", Cuddy said.

"I eh, moved his furniture around a bit and he fell last night"  
Wilson took another large bite of his bread and started coughing and sputtering, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Cuddy was about to rush up to him to help as Wilson gasped: "Hot! Hot!", and gulped down his glass of water.

Realization hit Cuddy.  
"Really! You two need to grow up, get a life … "

The phone rang and interrupted her.


	4. Consults and ketones

Note : changed the layout so it's easier to read. Thanks for reviewing !

**Chapter 4. Consults and ketones.**

House was standing next to 17-year-old Natasha in exam 1.  
Raven black dyed hair, dark clothes, black lipstick, several piercing and a very flustered mom on the other side of the table.

"So, what are you here for"

"Nothing, my mom made me come. "

"She's gotten so thin"

"I'm not hungry"

"And she's tired all the time. And she's had a fever off and on for the past 2 weeks"

"I've got a cold"

House noticed the girl was scratching her leg with her foot.

"Itchy?"

The girl shrugged but then nodded.  
Then with a nasty look at her mom said: "But I'm fine"

House got a look from the mom and started going over a few basic things.  
"How much weight have you lost?"

"Don't know, about 10 pounds in 2 months I think. I'm not anorexic or something, just not hungry"

He felt the glands in her neck.

"Any trouble sleeping?"

"No"

Glands near the collarbone...he paused and looked at the girl.

"How long's that been there?"

She reached up.  
"Don't know, never noticed it before. It doesn't hurt"

House sighed.  
"I'm going to get Dr. Wilson down here, he needs to take a look at you"

"Is she all right?" her mom asked extremely worried.

House paused dialing for a minute.  
Usually the overprotective worried parents had no reason to be like that, but this most likely was an exception…  
"I don't know yet"

"Wilson, I..."  
He heard some coughing at the other end as Wilson answered.

"I take it you had lunch...listen"

"House! I thought we stopped the pranks"

"The hot sauce is from last night, if it hadn't been you would have needed a lot more water...but no time to get into it now.  
I need you down here, 17 year old female, possible HD."  
Wilson paused for a minute, coughing some more.  
"I'm on my way." 

Wilson hung up the phone.  
Cuddy resumed her lecture.  
"And you, you should have known better! What were you thinking risking more damage to his leg and... Oh !"

Cuddy grabbed the empty glass, walked to the fountain in the hall and handed Wilson a full glass back.  
Wilson drank it, put it down.

"I know, gotta go...House called for a consult, sounds like a real one for a change ... 17 year old which could be Hodgkins"

He left Cuddy behind as he, still sputtering slightly, made his way down to the clinic.

Foreman, Cameron and Chase exited Chris' room.  
They had hooked him up to a Saline IV while monitoring his blood sugar which was dropping pretty fast to below 60 now but when they gave him some orange juice it shot up to 220.

His parents arrived and they went back up to House in the whiteboard room.

"What have you got?"

"Well", said Foreman, "his blood sugar definitely acts as if he's got diabetes, but his ketones instead of being elevated were low. "

"That doesn't fit with diabetes. Low ketones suggest hyper-insulinism." Chase said.

"I know," replied Foreman, "but we can't be sure if that's because he injected himself with  
too much insulin or if it's caused by something else"

"Could be a toxin?", suggested Cameron.

House got up and walked to the whiteboard, adding "low ketones" to the list and crossing out diabetes.

"You two go talk to the parents."

He tossed car keys out of his pocket to Chase.

"Road trip. Let's see what secrets Chris has stashed away in his closet."


	5. Picture time

Layout updated so hopefully it's easier to read.

**Chapter 5. Picture time.**

Cameron and Foreman were sitting opposite Chris' parents, writing down their answers.

Chris had gotten worse.  
He had started to have trouble breathing, saying his chest felt very tight, that it hurt.

They had checked his heart and luckily that seemed not to be the cause of it.  
His chest film was clear, so hey had put him on oxygen and painkillers.  
His medical history only revealed Chris had been an active child, hardly ever was sick.

"Have you notice any change in his behavior lately"

"Not really, I mean, he moved out 4 weeks ago, live on his own, study"

"He hasn't been home yet since, he's enjoying his freedom. If he has changed we wouldn't really know"

"Do you think he's been doing drugs? "

"I'm not sure but I don't think so.

"Any change in his diet?"

"Probably. You know students, fast food is easier than cooking vegetables"

"Does he have a girlfriend, a roommate – maybe they have the same symptoms..?"

"….No"

15 minutes later Cameron and Foreman walked into an empty whiteboard room.  
They had asked every question they could think of and weren't any closer to a diagnosis.

"His parents were useless! I can't believe we spent 1 hour questioning them", muttered Foreman frustrated.  
"He changed his whole life around and any one of a thousand changes could be the one causing all this.

"Let's hope Chase and House find something".

After a 40 minute drive Chase parked the car in front of a row of tall old buildings with flights of stairs leading up to the main entrances. Both got out.

Chase was leading the way, swiftly hopping up the first couple of steps taking 2 at a time.  
Then he halted abruptly and turned around.

"Eh… ".  
He looked at House who was chewing a Vicodin and pocketing the bottle.  
"Do you need a hand?"

"No, but wanna trade legs?"  
He swallowed.  
"I knew I should have sent Foreman to go along with you"

"You hate talking to the parents.

"I hate stairs. They're evil.

"The good go to heaven, the bad go to hell", offered Chase.

House looked up at him: "What ?"

"When you walk up the stairs lead with the good leg", Chase started explaining, "when you go down..."

"I knów hów to do it", snarled House, inwardly bracing himself.  
He got hold of the left railing, twelve steps up, requiring his full attention.  
Left leg leading, bruised muscles screaming a protest on top of the usual sharp pain shooting through his right leg.

Chase waited on him at the top, resisting the urge to stretch out his hand to House.  
Studying him.  
Slightly surprised at the change in smoothness of his gait, realizing House made walking look easy  
because he put a lot of effort into making it as normal and fluent as he could.  
Stairs transferred the smooth perfected motion of his walking gait into a strained irregular jagged slowed down -

"Keep staring, I might do a trick", House said, stopping next to Chase.  
He took a few seconds to even his breathing, then walked past Chase through the main entrance into a wide hallway.

There were very few students walking around.  
Two girls were leaning against the wall on the far end talking to each other.

"57?"asked House over his shoulder, stopping in front of a door.  
Chase nodded.  
House pushed his cane in Chase's hands and took something out of his pocket.

"Keep an eye on those girls, smile, take your hand through your hair … take your shirt of…  
Whatever keeps them from noticing me".

He motioned at the door and held up two lock picks.

Chase put the cane against the wall and casually wandered to the announcement board 6 feet to his left.  
One hand in his pocket, waving "hi" at the girls with the other.  
They smiled back at him.  
He read a few of the flyers and walked back to House who sure enough opened the door and held it  
open for Chase to walk inside, following him and closing the door behind them.

It was a pretty big apartment, especially for a student. Two rooms a kitchen and a bathroom.

"Does he live alone?"

"Yes, as far as I know", said Chase…"he just moved in 4 weeks ago, I've only been here once."  
"Where do I start?"

"Kitchen", replied House, "look for toxins. I'll take the bathroom"

House went through the medicine cabinet without finding anything unusual, in fact it was pretty empty.  
Some aspirin, mouthwash...  
Chase had his head inside the fridge and was sniffing at food and moldy leftovers.

House moved on to the living room as Chase started opening cabinet doors above the stove.

"Hey, who is this?"  
House held up a framed picture of a group of people, showing Chase with his arm around a cute brown-haired suntanned girl in bikini.

Chase rushed up to him and turned a bright pink.

"That eh… that's Chelsea."

"You have a hot girlfriend and you didn't tell me?"

"We broke up."

House took a closer look at the picture, holding it closer to his face.  
Tracing a faint line across Chase's chest and collarbone with a finger.

"Is that a scar there? What did you do, get attacked by a shark"

Chase snatched the frame from House and put it on the table face down.

"It doesn't matter, there are no toxins here"

"What's in the fridge?"  
House started walking over there.

"Your standard student diet, beer and pizza"

He was rudely interrupted as door burst open and two uniforms, guns drawn, rushed in and shouted:

"NJPD ! Don't move, put your hands in the air where I can see them".

/ Please please review, I need some input.  
Teaser for the next chapter ( apart from the above cliffhanger - sorry guys, hang on ) - it will include a bit of non important Wilson stuff. What do you think , should Cuddy meet him and ask him if he knows where House is ? Should Wilson call Grace ?Does anyone have any suggestions for what Foreman and Cameron could be doing next ..I could shove them in the lab to test somethings I think... or will the y be covering House's clinic hours ?


	6. Con Fiction

/I apologize for the delay in updates, some real life stuff getting in the way ( oh well, at least that self-defense course was usefull after all ).  
I will finish this properly, but it might take a little longer than expected. Working on the next chapter as I'm posting this.  
Please do review if you read it. Criticism and praise are equally appreciated.

**Chapter 6. Con Fiction.**

Cameron was rushing down to the clinic, on her way to cover House's clinic hours.  
Greeted the nurse, grabbed the first chart and then she cheerfully opened the door of exam 4.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Cameron, what can I do for you"

"Hey", a tall shorthaired girl looked up at her, holding up 1 swollen and bruised middle finger.  
"Don't mean to be rude, but … I sprained my finger"

Cameron got a roll of tape and took a closer look at the finger.  
"What happened"

"Volleyball training, Karen smashed right through my block, the bitch"

Cameron smiled, tore two strips of tape off the role and neatly taped two fingers together.  
"All done, better not play for a week"

Foreman sighed, running labs was not the most favorite part of his job and frankly he didn't really know what he was looking for.  
He peered through a microscope, switching to a higher magnification to get a closer look at the cells.  
Seeing normal ery's, and purple stained lymphocytes, multi-lobed neutrophiles… nothing out of the ordinary.  
Switching back to a lower magnification he could see it probably wasn't an infection, no higher count than he had expected.  
But the fact that Chris was getting worse was a sign that something was wrong after all…

Wilson sat outside at a table, he had thrown the remainder of his "House- sandwich" away and bought lunch from the hospital cafeteria.Not nearly as good, but he was hungry.  
House had probably been right about Natasha, he had just performed a biopsy on her lymph node and tried to prepare them for the possible bad news.  
He took a bite, chewed, look around.  
Thinking of the hundreds of patients he had to tell the bad news to over the years.  
Thinking of the ones that survived and the ones that didn't make it.

People dealt with being sick in so many different ways.  
But they always had one thing in common – the determination to deal and get through it and survive.

There were very, very few that just gave up from the start.

There were those who quickly accepted, there were those who never really did.  
There were those who wanted to know everything up to the smallest of details.  
There were those who did not want to know what was going to happen at all.

Then there were those who he could do nothing more for than delay the inevitable, make them as comfortable as possible.

And often it were thóse patients who left a lasting impression.

It were those patients that came to terms with slowly dying and in the process took everyone else's fear of death away.

"Dispatch this is unit 24a, we've got two suspects present…"

Chase and House stood there, hands in the air, shocked.  
House still had his cane in his hand which now was awkwardly pointing up at the ceiling.

"You are under arrest for breaking and entering. Sir, would you drop that"

Wood clattering. Handcuffs rattling.  
The cops rushed up to them and yanked their wrists down behind their backs.

"Do you have any weapons on you, any sharp objects on your body"

They both got a quick search.  
Chase muttering some sort of protest, House grimacing as his right leg was patted down.

Both too taken by surprise to really say anying.

"Suspects apprehended", radioed the other guy as he directed Chase towards the door.  
"E.T.A. 15 minutes."

He looked at his colleague who had stopped briskly pushing House forward as he noticed the severe limp.

"Can you walk?"

"A whole lot better if you let me use that cane"

He hesitated.  
"You'd better not be fooling me" he said warningly.

"He's not" Chase had come to his senses again ,"he..."  
He stopped.  
As if the police would actually believe anything a felon they just arrested was saying …

The cop kept his eyes on House as he picked up the cane, un-cuffed him and handed it to him.

House gave him a curt nod as a 'thank you' as he redistributed his weight.

"We'll take you to the station where you can call a lawyer or you'll be assigned one, after which we will take your statements"

The first cop led Chase through the door as the other one took hold of House's left elbow.  
Letting House set the pace but slightly interfering with his rhythm nonetheless.

"Look, started Chase as they walked outside through the doors.  
"We were not breaking and entering, well, technically we maybe were but --"

"Chase, shut up"

Down the stairs, House paused after 2 steps.

"I'm going to need both hands for this if you want to make it to the donut cruiser before nightfall.

The cop hesitated.

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna run off…"


	7. Distractions

/This took ages to piece together ( I literally pieced this together from what I'd written over the past weeks.. As it turns out you do and you learn. And I've learned that even if you have the big lines, the medical things, the main events set in your mind for months it's still hard to get the flow and put together a story. Also; even if it's your own, you can overlook some small details. So I had to rewrite a LOT which is part of the reason it took so long. I think there are 2 chapters after this, and everything will be reveiled , I promise !

**Chapter 7. Distractions.**

Cuddy picked up the phone and was instantly suspicious when she heard House's voice through some static crackle – which meant he was not in the hospital as he was supposed to be.

"Where are you?"

"Chase and I have been arrested, I think you should call what's his name."

"What did you do now !"

"Hey, I'm offended, why do you assume they had reason to arrest me, did I mention Chase was with me?"

"House."

"Fine, we searched the patients house for toxins.  
Someone next door must have heard us, or seen us enter, they called the cops"

"Chris' parents are here in the hospital, I'll try to get them to drop the charges.  
How the hell am I supposed to explain two of my doctors breaking into their sons house"

"You'll think of something, how's he doing, any new symptoms?"

Cuddy quickly filled him in as a cop started motioning for House to hang up.

"Thanks, gotta go. I think Chase wants to call his mom now"

Cuddy disconnected after a slightly frustrated "I'll call Jordan".

Chase didn't comment, but House noticed the change immediately.  
Slightly added tension to his posture, his face became harder to read.  
Chase was clamming up.

It couldn't just be the comment about his mother. Admitted it wasn't one of his most tactful quips, but it wasn't the first time he had mentioned Chase's mother to him, and this was a different response from the slightly annoyed reply he normally got back.

Was it that ever since his father passed away of lung cancer Chase was an orphan ?  
Or was it the fear of not knowing what would happen now they were arrested?

"She'll get us out". House said in an almost reassuring tone.

Chase nodded but didn't relax that much.

So. Not it.

Was it the scar?

Cameron was covering for House in the clinic.  
She entered the exam room to find a teary eyed little boy , and his mom pressing a towel to a nasty gash above his eyebrow.

"School called for me to pick him up since he had fallen in the classroom and hit his head on the table"

Cameron asked her to remove the towel and told Timmy to lay back so she could have a look.  
10 minutes later she had glued the edges of the wound close and handed Timmy his prize for being so brave.

Wilson was wandering through the hospital looking for House.  
When he hadn't replied to his page he had checked all the usual places House would hide out when he wasn't in his office.  
But why would he be hiding out, he had a case…

So he went to see Cuddy in her office and found her on the phone.  
He waited and from what he heard of the conversation it became clear what the problem was.

The cop asked Chase if he indeed needed to make a phone call, Chase declined.  
Both had to give their name, address, date of birth, Social Security number ... and then had to hand over all their personal property.

While they were emptying their pockets, the cop was checking their details on a computer screen, and reminded House he had 2 unpaid traffic tickets.

"Oh, did I forget to put my placard in plain sight again? Because I have one, you see".  
He held up his cane "all those able bodied people who park in the blue zone should be locked up"

"You were speeding."  
The cop eyed him.  
"And they need to be paid before I can release you"

Chase's things were being put in a brown paper bag after a quick inspection. His money was counted and he had to sign the voucher that would allow him to get his belongings back.  
Then the cop moved on to House's things.  
He was opening his wallet when House took the bottle of Vicodin back off the counter and wanted to pocket it.

"You can't take that with you sir."  
The cop finished counting the money, put house's wallet in the bag, and held his hand out for the pills.

"These are my pills", House protested.

"I'm sorry sir, by law you are not allowed to take any personal property with you into the holding cell.  
That includes all drugs…and mobility aids"

House started to get pretty agitated.

"These are my pain pills! I need those, I'm not just some junkie that --"

"You will have access to them, there is and EMT on duty that you can notify when you need medical attention.  
He will assess you and prescribe medication where needed.  
We have our own pharmacy here, you will get these ones back when you are released"

He quickly bagged all House's belongings, as if he was afraid House would start a battle over every single one of them.  
He then held the bag open for House to put his Vicodin in to, and House reluctantly complied.

He too signed his voucher, the cop read them the Miranda, for which they also had to sign a form.

Then the EMT guy asked them some routine health questions regarding their medical history and current health status, jotted down Houses' Vicodin prescription information, and then they were led to a holding cell down the hall.

Foreman was entering Chris' room.  
He just ran out of blood to run tests on.  
He had tried to call both House and Chase on their cell phones but both went straight to voicemail.

He had left 3 messages, then paged Cameron back up from the clinic.  
He didn't get why she was covering House's hours in the first place, and he wanted her to double check his slides under the microscope.

"Hey, how are you holding up? "

Chris opened his eyes.

"Oh, I guess I fell asleep…"he sat up a bit more.

Foreman put an elastic band around his arm, disinfected the area with some alcohol and put the needle in to draw blood.

"Hey man, that hurts ! F--- off"

Foreman blinked, pulled the needle out and backed away a little.

He looked at Chris' parents .

"Is he always that irritable when you wake him up"

They both shook there heads.

House handed his cane to the officer and slowly followed Chase into the cell as the door was locked behind no windows apart from the one in the door.  
A bench that doubled as a bed, a table and a toilet.  
All bolted to the floor.

"Cozy", House muttered.

Chase glanced at him, then sat down on the bench lowering his head.  
He stared at his shoes for a while, hundreds of thoughts racing through his mind.  
He only half registered House lowering himself on his right side.  
Right mess he had gotten himself into.  
He never should have agreed to search a patients' home right from the start – better fired than in jail.  
Yet House didn't seem too worried.  
And Chris, what would happen to him, they hadn't found anything – would they have if they had had more time?

He thought of what his parents would say if they could see him.  
If they could see him ... he looked up - years of seminary school had still not completely worn off. His dad… His mom.  
The picture Chris had in his room, the scar, the story … no doubt if they were there long enough House would bring it up again.  
Chase hoped he wouldn't. His mind went back to when he was 11, remembering too clearly now.

And he had nowhere to go.

"So, how does active surfer dude turn into fatigue, muscle pains, vomiting, low ketones, chest pain, shortness of breath"   
Chase snapped out of it, looked at his boss.  
"Shortness of breath?"

"Your buddy, the hospitalized one"

Chase looked up.

"Cuddy told me, it's a new symptom, it's good. Come on, think"

"Oh, eh…he's not asthmatic."  
Chase knew it was a weak comment, and the added " I've never seen him with an inhaler" only made things worse.

House scoffed.

Cameron was in the white board room when Foreman came rushing in.

"His liver enzymes are elevating, he is getting more irritable. Have you tried to call House or Chase again "

Cameron nodded – voicemail again.

"Maybe Wilson or Cuddy knows where they are ?  
I'll go find them", said Foreman," you go check on Chris."

Cameron went down to Chris' room, his parents were sitting in the hallway.

"He said he wanted to be left alone"….his mother muttered.

Cameron nodded and went in to find Chris laying on his back staring at the ceiling, he looked at her slightly annoyed.

"What, you need even more blood ?"

"No, just checking up on you, Cameron replied kindly, relieved to see he wasn't showing any signs of jaundice so far.  
"How are you feeling?"

"Have you figured out what's wrong with me yet ?"

Cameron shook her head.  
"Not yet, we're still running tests, some just take a little time"

Chris rolled on his side away from her.

"I know it's hard to wait.."Cameron started.

"You know nothing!"Chris snapped, still not looking at her, "you don't even know what I've got .  
Then his voice broke.

"I don't want to die"

Cameron placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You'll be fine", she said – wishing she believed it more herself.

She walked out and motioned for his parents to go back in.

"House, we went over ever minute detail we could think of."

House knew Chase was right.  
He also knew he needed to keep busy.  
Stairs, car rides combined with the fall from last night, all did not mix well with a bad leg.  
Walking would help, but not without his cane.  
Catch 22.

Regardless he pushed himself up, he needed to think.  
He straightened, as always ever so slightly hesitant at the first "step", 3 hops to the table, right hand on the surface for support.  
3 hops back to the bench, turn around to the table.

What were they missing?  
God his leg hurt, ignore it, back to the table.

"Could you stop that?", Chase asked annoyed.

He was trying to concentrate on thinking what could be killing Chris.  
Trying to push certain memories back to the far corners of his brain, where they belonged.  
House's pacing distracted him.

House ignored him, but after 2 more times back and forth to the table he lowered himself next to Chase again,  
reaching into his pocket but finding nothing.

"So, how did you get the scar?", he asked.

Chase almost literally jumped, reaching up to his collarbone, House caught him off guard.

"Shark was probably a bit too farfetched.  
If it were true I don't think you'd be still surfing considering how confused Jaws sometimes gets when he  
has to tell a surfboard from his lunch"  
House grimaced as he tried to find the most comfortable position for his leg .

"It wasn't in your medical file which means your dad probably stitched you up.  
If your dad did the stitching, it must have been something that he did not WANT to be on record..you don't have any brothers or sisters, which leaves… your mom"

Chase swallowed, got up and walked to the other side of the room, noticing from the corner of his eye that House was gingerly sliding across the bench, pulled his leg onto the bench and leaned back against the wall with a sigh.

"So what did your mom do – did"

"We can't do this in here!" Chase interrupted him, half shouting, turning around.  
"We don't have all the test results, we don't know what changed , just …we can't DO Anything"  
Chase looked at House, angry … too many emotions racing through his head.

Then he walked to the door and knocked on it.

House looked at him.  
"Just asking nicely doesn't help, they won't let you out, you know "

A cop opened the door.

"He needs his pills", said Chase.

House snapped his head and looked at him as the cop nodded and told him he'd be back with the EMT in a second.

Chase turned around.  
"Sometimes asking nicely does help.  
Next time if you need to put your leg up you can ask me to move, in stead of bullying me away."

The door opened again, Chase repeated his request to the EMT guy and with one look at House the EMT nodded – "500"

"750", mutters House.

The EMT came back with a cup of water and 1 Vicodin 750 ug.  
House silently took it, threw the cup in the bin and turned to Chase.

"Next time don't do that, ever."

"You made a hell of a racket about the pills back there !"Chase said.

"I didn't want him to find the lock picks in my wallet you idiot!"


	8. Revelations

So sorry for the late update, I promise the next ( and final) chapter will be up next week !  
A BIG thank you to DIY Sheep for giving such excellent advice .

**Chapter 8. Revelations.**

The smug look on Chase's face instantly vanished as Houses fierce blue eyes shot through him.

"Oh... right...I had forgotten about those," he muttered.

"Look, I didn't mean to"  
He stopped talking, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.  
Knowing House was right to be so mad at him; for deciding for him.  
He took two hesitant steps forward, but House's legs occupied the whole bench,  
and he would rather tell him why his dad had stitched him up than ask House to move so he could sit down.

So he just stood there, House's stare still fixed on him, both silent.

Then Chase finally spoke: "What do we say in our statements? I mean, they will ask us what we were doing there, how we got in"  
He trailed off, looked around the cell.  
Four concrete walls, one window.  
Maybe five paces from wall to wall.  
And this was a big one. Meant for two people, or maybe even three?

He couldn't imagine spending more than a few hours in a place like this.  
Suddenly his hands were getting clammy, and he wiped them on his jeans.  
Telling himself he was never, no matter what House said, going to do this again.

House blinked, raised his eyebrows.  
Chase was right about bringing that up, they hadn't discussed this yet, and two different statements was not such a good idea.  
He thought, going over several possible explanations in his head, picking the one that was most likely to result in their release.

"Looking for toxins, the door was already open", he said.

His voice was still slightly clipped, but Chase knew that the topic of him asking for House's Vicodin was closed.  
He relaxed a little.

House finally looked away from Chase, leaning back against the wall, his arms folded across his chest,  
right ankle crossed over the left one, legs stretched out in front of him.

He closed his eyes, enjoying the Vicodin wave.

Foreman knocked on Cuddy's door.  
Through the glass he could see that she was on the phone, and that Wilson was already waiting inside, looking pretty agitated.

Cuddy gestured for him to come in.

"...right, so his parents"  
"OK, thanks, I'll get them to sign it so we can fax it to the police station. If you don't hear back from me it means somehow we succeeded." "Thanks Jordan."

Cuddy slammed the receiver down a bit harder than was necessary.

"Well, he's really done it this time!"

"House got arrested?" asked Wilson.

"What?", Foreman blurted out.

"House and Chase, the both of them.  
Caught red handed too. House just called from the station...not sounding the least bit worried by the way"  
She brushed a curly strand of hair out of her face as she looked up.

"So now what?" asked Foreman. "And did they find anything?"

"House didn't say"  
"Chris' parents are the registered tenants", explained Cuddy, "I guess they pay the bills. If we can get them to drop the charges then…"

"We have to go talk to them now", Wilson interrupted, "where's Cameron?"

"In the lab, I think", Foreman replied, "I'll go get her, fill her in. I can't believe this!"

He rushed out the door with a: "We'll meet you in the hallway" back over his shoulder at Cuddy and Wilson.

Chris' parents were sitting in the hallway outside of Chris room as the group of four doctors walked up to them.  
Grim faces with a slightly nervous and anxious edge, as they halted in front of them.  
Chris mother turned very pale as she started crying, grasping her husbands' sleeve, muttering "Oh, no.  
Obviously she was thinking her son was going to die, that there was nothing they could do for him. His dad too looked in shock.

"Oh,... no!", Cameron hurried to reassure them," it's not bad news about Chris, it's "  
She wasn't sure if she should be the one informing Chris' parents of the arrest.

Chris' mothers crying turned to soft sobs and then stopped as Wilson handed her a paper handkerchief that he got out of his coat pocket.

Cuddy took over from Cameron.  
"Two of your son's physicians went to his house to search for toxins and other possible causes for his illness, and someone called the cops on them."

"Did Chris not agree to this?" his dad asked surprised.

"Eh...," said Cuddy, avoiding to look him in the eyes, "Chris didn't know."

His dad gazed at her for two seconds, then realization hit him: "They broke in?"

"They felt it was necessary in order to save your son's life", said Wilson.

"We don't know what they found yet, they won't allow for any communication"  
Wilson paused before he added: "We need them back to solve this, we need you to drop the charges ... before it's too late."

Chris parents looked at each other and nodded.

Chase and House both looked at the two cops that had opened their door.

"We just got a fax from your lawyer", the one on the left said. "They dropped the charges.

You are free to go, please follow me to the front desk where you will get your personal belongings back, after which we will drive you back to your vehicle."

Chase quickly stepped outside the cell, as if he was afraid the order would be withdrawn.

House carefully got up, limped a few steps and leaned against the doorpost, quickly estimating the distance between where he stood and the front desk.

He relaxed slightly as he saw one of the cops that arrested them walk up to them through the hall, holding House's cane.  
Thoughtful man.

After signing yet another form they got their belongings back, and outside Chase immediately called Cuddy.

He told her they did not find anything at the house, got an update on Chris, and let her know they were on their way.

A marked police car was waiting on them.  
An overweight cop was leaning against it eating something so greasy that even from this distance it was obvious fat was dripping off it. House instantly lost his appetite.

And then he stopped dead in his tracks, and snatched the phone out of Chase's hands.


	9. Home again

_So here it is. The final chapter: Home again._

_I owe **DIY Sheep** a very big **Thank You**__ for helping me out with layout/formatting/grammar/spelling/reconstructing my sentences and so on to make it easier to read and keep me on my toes. (I wonder if they sell pre-printed Post-Its with TENSE and FORMATTING ? ) Which doesn't mean everything is perfect now, but hey, I really tried. I'm learning.  
_

_Thanks too to all reviewers, very encouraging!  
It really helps me to write on, think of extra information to add and make me look at things from a different angle.  
Constantly questioning if a character would indeed behave like that..._

_Anyway, I hope you've all enjoyed reading this.  
Maybe it's best to read it all in one go because there are some referrals to the earlier chapters.  
But, if I wanted everyone to do that I should have updated on a much more regular basis ?_

_I hope I explained everything that happened in this story, but if I left something out please don't hesitate to ask a question in a review or send me a message if something still is not clear after reading this last chapter.  
_

_CB/2006  
_

* * *

**Chapter 9. Home again.**

After they got back to their own car, Chase drove them back to PPTH.

House had started rubbing his leg, despite taking two Vicodin. He was not saying much apart from: "Yes I am convinced I'm right, it all fits" when Chase had asked him if he was sure about his diagnoses, and a hissed: "God, where did you learn to drive!" when Chase unexpectedly had to brake because someone in a car in front of them suddenly decided they really _did_ want to turn right there after all.  
The sudden forward jolt had sent a sharp wave of pain traveling through House's leg, taking away his breath for a minute, as he braced himself to prevent a collision with the dashboard.

And then Chase felt guilty.

Not because his sudden breaking had visibly caused House pain,  
but because he almost felt glad House so preoccupied with his own scar that he didn't even bother to bring up Chase's again.

He parked as close to the hospital entrance as he could, figuring House would want to walk as short a distance as possible, and they made their way inside.

* * *

Upon exiting the elevator they were met by Cameron who followed them into Chris' room.  
Cuddy, Foreman and Chris' parents were already there. Cuddy looked slightly annoyed at House, but then she always did.  
Foreman looked amused. Damn, thought House. There goes forcing him to do things by reminding him of his rap sheet. The parents looked at him with what he could only guess was admiration and gratefulness, but then loved ones always did once you'd saved the patient. If the kid had died he would have been met by eyes that said "you killed my son and broke into his house". 

"House", Cuddy said. "You were right, it's CPT2, the lab just confirmed after testing the muscle biopsy we took."

"Have you started a 10 glucose drip?", asked House. Foreman nodded.  
"Add Carnitor later, that should make him feel better."

Chris' dad turns to House, glancing over the cane. "Thank you".

House nodded and left as Cameron walked up to Chris and his parents and started explaining.

"Chris, you have a F.O.D. A fatty oxidation disorder. There are several kinds and yours is called CPT2.

Normally your body uses glucose as an energy source, and when glucose is not available it uses fat. Therefore it breaks down the long chains of fatty acids into smaller ones with an enzyme. But if that enzyme is missing or not functioning correctly you can't break the fatty acids down and instead the body stores them. Often in places where it doesn't belong - for example in the liver, the kidneys or the heart.

In your case the carnitine palmitoyltransferase II precursor, called CPT2 for short, is not doing it's job. So when all the glucose is used up there is nothing else the body can use to get it's energy from. That is why we just put you on a glucose drip.

You will get Carnitor later, and you will have to follow a diet from now on.  
Restrict the intake of fat, and eat lots of carbohydrates. Never go without food for longer than about 8 hours.  
You will work all of this out with a nutritionist. You should also avoid prolonged vigorous exercise, and extremes in temperature.

We will monitor your ammonia, liver enzymes and cpk in the future. Sadly this is not something we can cure, but now we know what's wrong we should be able to prevent things getting as bad as they are now, and you should feel better soon."

* * *

House walked out of the elevator into the foyer and headed for the front door, but he stiffened when a familiar voice came from the staircase. Not Cuddy, not now! 

"House, where are you going?"

"Out."

"But it's only 3:15! You're not even close to being allowed to clock out!"

"I solved the case. I'm going home. I filled my walking quota for the day."  
He knew he sounded as tired and beat as he felt, and he hated it.

Cuddy looked at him, instantly knowing the last part of that sentence was the real reason House was on his way out.  
" Wilson told me what happened. You would tell me if something really was wrong, right?"

House scoffed. "So you can give me another placebo? No thanks."

Cuddy swallowed, not regretting injecting him with saline, but regretting not immediately noticing House wanted to get home bad enough to resort to insulting her, thinking that was the fastest way to get rid of her.

"Come on, I'll drive you."

House started protesting.

"Shut up and hand me the keys."

* * *

Home, finally. 

House flung his coat over the back of a chair.  
He sank down on the couch and stretched his legs out in front of him. Consciously relaxing his shoulders, trying to will the tension out of strained muscles.

He sighed, tried to get his mind to push the pain aside, think of something else.

He took two more Vicodin, and switched on the TV, but didn't really see what exactly was on. It was moving and it produced sound, but it could have been anything. He didn't care.

Noise was good, any noise.

* * *

Home, finally. 

Chase flung his coat over the back of a chair, loosened his tie. He sat down, turned the TV on, but his mind didn't register what was on. He made dinner, switched the TV off again.

His head was full of thoughts and emotions he didn't want there.

He brushed his teeth and took a shower.  
The steam isolated him from the rest of the world, with only the sound of the water keeping him company. The warmth was causing his muscles to relax a little. He stepped out of the shower, sat down on the edge of the bed for a moment, before sliding in. As he closed his eyes the one memory he had been trying to push away would no longer let itself be locked away in one of the far corners of his brain.

He remembered part of the lyrics of a song in some foreign language Chelsea once had him listen to. She had even translated it for him.

_I only come when you are asleep, when you are ready for the night.  
I come in images, in fragments.  
Hard, suddenly, and when you least expect me to. _

_Sometimes I come in the middle of laughter,  
That then changes into crying.  
The tears are the same, their names are different. _

_I hide in faded pictures, in something you find under the couch.  
And no matter how much you try to drown me, it never works.  
I hide easiest in alcohol. _

Chelsea had not known about his mom.

He had loved her. They had met at the beach.  
There were always girls watching him when he was surfing, and afterwards he had bought her ice cream. They had sat down on a towel, the hot sand beneath them, the rustling rumbling sound of the waves hitting the shore. Talking, smiling and flirting.  
He had trusted her. But he hadn't told her.  
He hadn't told House he had been right either and he never would.

He rolled over on his other side.

His mom. The fight.

He remembered how he had come home from school one day, finding his mom drunk and angry. It hadn't been the first time either.  
She was yelling, something about his dad not being there for her.

When he had tried to calm her down she had thrown the nearest object she could find at him. It was a glass figurine of a dog. He hated dogs. He hated the sharp edges of the damned figurine that had cut right through his T-shirt.  
He hated how he had stood there, shocked and scared and bleeding. He hated that his mom had shouted at his dad. "So now you're coming home after all!" The words still echoing in his head, he knew he had shouted back at her. He had been so mad.  
She had cried and locked herself in the bathroom as his dad had stitched him up without saying a word.

His mind jumped to her unexpected death only weeks after.  
She never apologized, he never did either.

He remembered the funeral.  
The overwhelming silence when everyone but him and his dad had gone outside again, afterwards.  
How his new black leather shoes had disturbed that silence when he finally walked out as well. How his dad had looked at him as if he had somehow done that on purpose. How things were different ever since.

* * *

Home, finally, 

Wilson entered House's apartment, and as he switched on the lights discovered House had been lying on the couch in the dark, but he was not sleeping.

"Are you… testing your night vision?"

"No."

"Are you hungry?"

"No."

"It was Hodgkin's. Good call." He let himself fall into a chair closest to House's feet.

"Another day in the oncologists' life, telling a young girl she has months of treatment ahead of her, and even then changes of her making it are pretty slim." He got up, walked to the fridge and got two cans out. He sat back down again, handing House one, which he opened.  
A good sign, Wilson thought, if he still wanted to drink something. He sighed.

"What did she ever do to deserve this… And Chris. Another person whose life from now on will never be the same. And you…"

He paused, not sure if he should continue, not sure how House would respond.  
But House just took another gulp of the beer.

"I'm sorry about last night…" Wilson said.

"What the hell is this", House said, "I am sorry about last night? What are we now, dating?"

Wilson looked at him. "You know what I mean. You have been in agony all day because I wanted to get back at you."

House put his beer down.

"People always assume life is fair.  
They assume that the universe evens it all out, that one thing counterbalances the other.

If something bad happens it probably is because of something bad they did, or something good they didn't do.  
At first they think they deserve it. If they want something good to happen they try to make a deal – with themselves of with a God.  
It doesn't work. Never does. Life doesn't work like that. Life isn't fair. It's not unfair either. It just is.

I will be fine. Now, go away."

**FIN. **


End file.
